Being Human
by HeCallsMeHisChild
Summary: The Glass Lady has been in Dib's attic for as long as he can remember. Over the years, he stopped believing she was enchanted, but couldn't stop talking to the only person who didn't shut him up. Now, years later, he's starting to wonder if there really is more to the statue than meets the eye.
1. The Lady in the Attic

"Daaaaaad, can I check the attic for vampires yet?" Dib whined, "I wanna make sure Gaz doesn't join them, cause then I don't stand a chance."

"Not until you're six and a half, son," his father's imperious voice wafted up from the basement. "That's when the parenting books say children become autonomous."

"But I AM six and a half!" Dib called.

"Oh, have fun then!"

Dib rolled his eyes. He'd just turned six last week, but his Dad tended to lose track of his age pretty easily.

Lucky for him.

Dib strapped on his explorer's helmet, complete with battery-powered headlamp, and grabbed his voice recorder. A good investigator took plenty of memos! He darted over to the back of the upstairs hall. He'd prepared for this day early on, having used a rickety stepladder to tie a longer cord to the ring in the ceiling. On his big day, he would be able to pull the cord and bring down the staircase with ease.

Today was the day. He grabbed the cord, yanking hard. The trapdoor popped open, shooting a set of stairs at his head. He yelped, dodging as it slammed into the ground where he'd stood a moment before.

"Membrane log," he whispered into his recorder, "The vampires know I'm here, they've tried to stop me from discovering them. They're killers, I'll stop 'em!" Yanking his helmet firmly down on his head, he grabbed a fistful of garlic out of his pocket, glancing down to make sure the crucifix was hanging safely around his neck, and charged up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs he paused, glancing back. "My holy water!" He'd bothered a local priest until the man had blessed his water bottle just to get him to go away. It was back on his nightstand, by his bed. He hesitated, then faced forward again. "No goin' back now!"

The light from the hallway below him threw the whole room into spooky shadows, shifting and flickering as he moved. Any one of them could be a vampire, lurking, waiting to pounce on him and suck his blood out. He shivered, excited and terrified as he turned, scanning the attic slowly. "Membrane log, I'm in their lair. Any minute now I'll kick 'em out, and then Gaz will stay a scary normal sister, and not a scary undead sister. Maybe she'll—GAH!"

As he turned, he saw an adult-sized figure looming nearby. Fumbling with his helmet, he flicked on the light, thrusting the garlic in front of him. "Back bloodsucker!"

He paused, adrenaline fading. "You're not a vampire." He muttered, disappointed.

The figure that stood there wasn't a creature of darkness at all. It appeared to be a glass statue. It had few defined features, although it definitely stood upright, one couldn't quite call it human in appearance. Something about its face that wasn't quite right, or the way its arms curved like tendrils instead of arms. Even its forward motion, arrested in time, didn't suggest the usual motion of running. The glass was pure and crystalline. As he shone his headlamp through it, the light broke apart, scattering all over the attic in rainbow-colored diamonds.

"Ooooh," he gazed around, awed, forgetting all about his quest for a moment. "Wow, I didn't know we had somethin' like this!"

He pulled a box over, climbing up on it to better inspect the face. He frowned a little. "Wow, you look like you're scared of something. Hey lady," he said, deciding that the long swath of glass hanging off the back of her head counted as long lady hair, "Don't be sad. I bet you're under a curse or something. I don't do magic, just ghosts an' aliens, but I bet I can find something for ya! My Dad's real smart, just wait, I'll be back!"

Dib tore down the stairs, elated, calling, "Dad! Dad!" He tumbled down the basement steps, babbling, "Dad there's a glass lady in the attic, she looks really really sad, I bet she's under some kind of enchantment, Dad I know you don't like that stuff but can you do it just this once please cause I know you're really smart and science is kinda like magic!"

"Don't be ridiculous son," Membrane laughed, "Science is nothing like magic, because science actually exists. Glass lady? I know there was some junk upstairs when we moved here, it must have been the previous owners."

"Daaaaad pleeeeeeease!" Dib begged.

"Now son, you can do what you want with the junk upstairs, but don't expect me to get involved in your fantasies, I have real work to do."

Dib stuck his lip out, climbing back up dejectedly. He should have known better than to ask.

When he reached the attic again, he pulled the trapdoor closed behind him, plunging the attic into total darkness. Pulling off his helmet, he switched on the headlamp and pointed it at the glass lady. He watched the diamonds fly all over the room and find their places, then pulled up his knees and sighed.

"There can't be any vampires here," He muttered, "That would'a scared 'em outta hiding the first time I did that." He stared up at her. "I think you're really a lady," He said firmly. "Dad's smart but he's wrong. It's gotta be really boring up here all alone and frozen, so I'm gonna talk to you, kay? I'll come every day after Skool, an' we can talk about stuff. I know you can't talk, but someday I'll find a way to make you okay, then we can talk all day long."

A crack sounded in the attic, and he jumped, staring all around. After a moment, he settled down, nervous. It was an attic, and attics made creaky sounds in all the movies. He smiled up at the figure. "Maybe then you'll be able to tell me your name too, that'd be cool, but for now I'll just call you Glass Lady. You'll be secret, kay? I mean, Dad knows, but he's gonna forget real fast, like he forgets a lotta things."

Dib's wrist beeped insistently, and he sighed. "I gotta go Glass Lady. It's dinner, and Dad's hoverscreen chases me if I don't go get dinner. I'll talk to you later." He popped the trapdoor open again, climbing down the attic stairs. "Bye!"

"Who you talkin' to?" Gaz glared up at him from her doorway.

"Just me," Dib grinned widely. "Talkin' to myself."

"Weirdo." Gaz turned, heading for the kitchen.

…..

**Note:** Brain. You just can't wait can you. Promise I will finish Elyon, but this… thing… would not shut up… also if there are mistakes, sorry, I'm sick and really tired right now…


	2. The Cracking Clock

"Stupid Zim." Dib grimaced, pulling the trapdoor closed behind him. His whole body hurt, aching like he'd been through a hailstorm, which wasn't that far off. Zim's stale sandwich tornado had been a nasty, barely cohesive mass, but held together just enough to knock Dib about and buffet him with hard bread.

"How're you holding up?" Dib asked over his shoulder, checking the equipment. "Same as always, right?"

There was no answer, of course. There wouldn't be.

Sometimes Dib wondered why he kept coming up here, kept spilling out his day to this statue, kept the digital cam feeding images to his computer. He'd set up the camera shortly after discovering her, to make sure she was safe from any dark creature that might try and sneak in to reclaim her. He'd given up trying to wake the Glass Lady by age 9, and just last year he'd confirmed she wasn't enchanted after he begged a session out of Agent Tunaghost to determine if there was any magic on her.

Still, there was something comforting about his little ritual. Granted, he only came up once a week now, unless it had been a particularly terrible day and he needed to vent. Like the day he'd found out how little Dwicky really cared about saving the Earth. Or the day Zim's contact lens fell out and nobody cared. Or the day Zim was abducted by a giant alien in front of the class and nobody saw. His mouth turned down. At this point, he _hoped_ the statue wasn't enchanted, because it had seen him cry that day.

"Today's invasion plan was pretty stupid." Dib sighed, "But it sure hurt. Who knew bread could be a dangerous weapon?" He glanced up at her face. It was the face that still gave him the tiniest bit of doubt as to whether or not she was pure statue. He still remembered impression he had of the look on the face when he'd first seen her. It had been an expression of fear, with the distinct feeling of attempting to outrun something.

Now the expression was softer, more pensive and thoughtful. He could, of course, have imagined that it was fear, likely it had always been this thoughtful expression. But he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that it had subtly changed over time.

Ridiculous of course, but still there, in the corner of his mind.

_Crack._

He'd become accustomed to the cracking sounds in the attic as well, they'd become as familiar and dependable as a metronome to a music student. Sometimes, when he'd worn out all his words, he'd just sit there, watching the light play off the Glass Lady, listening for the crack every thirty minutes.

He opened his mouth to address her again, then sighed, slumping to the ground next to her and resting his forehead against the clear glass. "Lady," he said quietly, "I'm tired. Nobody believes me about Zim. I'm practically invisible unless I'm shouting, and then I'm 'Crazy,' and Dad isn't even ignoring me from the basement anymore. Now he's ignoring me from his lab." He closed his eyes. "Maybe he's got a point. Maybe they all do, I'm talking to a glass statue. I probably am crazy. Even old man Lars throws stuff at me and screams some nonsense about my glasses burning my face off, he hardly reacts to anyone else. Maybe I was just born with the worst luck."

He lapsed into silence, pointing the lamp he'd installed in the attic directly at the statue. He used to pretend the patterns spelled out responses, until he outgrew pretend. He used to color pictures for the Glass Lady and pin them up on the wall so she wouldn't be bored while he was gone. Some tattered and worn papers still remained on the wall.

_Crack._

Time flew up here sometimes. He hadn't meant to stay an hour. He had homework to do, and files on Zim to catalogue. He got up, stretching. He ran a hand down one of the Lady's arms gently. "Guess I'll be back in a few days."

Climbing down the trapdoor stairs, he wondered to himself how long it would be before he outgrew talking to the statue. Not that it would make any difference to the statue, but he got the feeling he'd be melancholy on that day. It would be like giving up sleeping with stuffed animals, because you know you've gotten too old for them. A sad, but necessary part of growing up.

Of course, some just roboticized their stuffed animals into guardian night terrors that fed on human flesh. Dib gave Gaz's door a wide berth as he slipped into his own room. Leaping onto his chair, he spun himself around a couple of times before settling down to organize his files. He clicked onto the feed in the attic to download the weeks' footage of absolutely nothing happening, send it to his hard drive, and connect to the live feed.

The half-hourly cracking had become his clock, and a comforting nighttime noise. That was why he kept filming, he reasoned.

He checked his homework folder. Nothing he couldn't do in the five minutes before Skool in the morning. Grimacing, he rubbed his side and decided that notes on Zim from today could wait. A hot shower was the more pressing need.

He glanced at the loading bar on his computer, and frowned. He'd gotten lazy about downloading the recording data, and had left it running for a few weeks. The compressed file would zip through the footage as it downloaded, playing everything at a higher speed. He didn't like the idea of his sound-clock speeding up, even if it was just for downloading's sake. He'd have to make sure he didn't put it off so long next time.

He accepted the download and turned to leave the room. It would be over by the time he was done with his shower.

_Crack. Crack. Crack. CRACK. Crack. CRACK. Crack. Crack. CRACK._

He paused, glancing back. Was it his imagination, or did the cracks have different tonal qualities?

He shrugged uneasily. It was just the attic creaking, always had been.

Every half hour. Perfectly. For years.

He slipped slowly back into his seat, staring at the footage as it zipped by, listening to the _crack_ing. It was most definitely changing up and down in pitch.

Suddenly his fingers gripped the edge of his chair, his knuckles flashing bone white. He could see himself in the footage, zipping about like a squirrel on steroids, flashing in and out of the footage like mad as it rolled through the time, that was to be expected.

But at the same time, with exceeding and painful slowness, he could see the glass lady's arm stretching farther out, ever so slightly, as the entire statue slid imperceptibly forward.

…..

**Note:** Important PSA: I am not advocating giving up sleeping with stuffed animals because you've gotten to old for them. (cradles Big Puppy close) I am not of the opinion this is a necessary part of growing up… Dib is though. (end PSA)


	3. The Combustion Chamber

Dib was back in front of the statue so fast, his neck protested the whiplash from him screeching to a halt in front of it. He stared up at her for a moment, then circled around her. Clicking on a flashlight, he shined a flashlight to the area directly behind her. Then he scanned around the attic, and came back to the area behind her.

The attic was densely packed with all kinds of junk and boxes of every size. He used to play up there sometimes, hiding behind them and making them into fortresses or cover for various operations. But directly behind the Glass Lady was an easily walkable path, free of boxes, leading all the way back to the corner of the attic.

_ZIP_

He darted back down to the computer, pulling up five years' worth of recording data. "Computer, take all this footage and play it at compression download speed, from the beginning!"

His computer creaked as it processed Dib's request, booting up a player and zipping through the footage.

Dib ignored the image of himself on the screen, only fixing his eyes on the Lady. Sure enough, he could see her moving forward, perhaps a few inches each year. How had he not realized she'd been moving closer to the trapdoor? It had to be because of how slow she moved, he'd just adjusted and never noticed.

"Computer!" He straightened. "Computer, go back to the top." He reached out to manually program his next commands. His vocal recognition software was getting better, but it still screwed up if the commands got too complicated, and he didn't want all his footage deleted by accident. He quickly pulled together a filter, toning down his voice as well as all external noises. He targeted the metronomic _CRACK_ and amplified it as the sole sound on the footage.

"Now, play it at five times compression download speed!" Dib ordered, sitting back.

This time, he could clearly see the statue moving forward, reaching out.

And he heard words.

"—eeeeeeeeeed hhhheeeaaaaaaaat pleeeaaaaassssssseeeeeee heeeeeeeaaaaaaaattttttttt Dddddddddddiiiiiiiiiiiibbbbb heeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaatttttt!"

The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

So. The cracking wasn't cracking. If this thing was trapped in slow motion, it was plausible to conclude that her voice, drawn out as slowly as her motion, only came out one vibration at a time. To his ears, this would sound like cracking.

And heat? She was in need of heat? It could make sense. If she was solid glass and moving that slowly… glass flowed in a molten, liquid state when heated up…

And she said his name.

She.

Said.

His.

Name.

She learned. For all he knew, she'd been calling for help years before he came, but from the time he had entered that attic and begun talking to her, she had said his name.

She was sentient.

But was she dangerous?

He could already feel it. The curiosity itching at the back of his mind. He knew what it meant. He knew that by the end of the day, he'd be neck-deep in some sort of trouble, or strange situation that he'd kick himself for later. He had no idea if she would be a friend or a threat, but he knew he would learn soon.

He had to prepare. Maybe some fireproof clothing would be a good start, and a welder's mask. Definitely an emergency fire extinguisher or five in case she turned out to be hostile. Maybe in a few days—

And then it hit him. He bolted out of his seat and ran for his father's basement, frantically searching for a hovering transport device of some sort. He couldn't waste another second. If she was able to speak his name at the end of a sentence, that meant she didn't see a skittering incomprehensible chipmunk like he was on the film. She saw him in real time, every day, enough to learn his name. She'd probably heard every word he said, and spent every day for five years—or longer, however long she'd been up there or frozen before that even—trapped in agonizing slow motion, begging for help.

Not even one more hour. Nobody deserved a fate like that.

"Gotcha!" He trumpeted, dragging the old hover helmet out from an old box. It was dented from his fall as a child, but still worked fairly well. And if the Glass Lady was as heavy as she looked, it would work just enough to get her mobile.

Dashing upstairs he shouted, "Glass Lady, don't worry, I know what's going on, just wait a minute! I just have to strap this on." He stacked a couple boxes on top of each other and hopped up, teetering precariously, to fit the helmet on top of her head and strap it under her chin.

He paused as he clicked the buckle together. "Where am I gonna get that much heat?" He muttered, running through possibilities in his mind before dismissing them. Then he snapped his fingers. "I've got it. The boiler in the basement, gives off a ton of heat. I don't know if that's enough, but it's a start til I figure something else out."

Clicking on the helmet, he hopped down, keeping a firm hold on her outstretched arm. To his delight, she rose an inch or so off the ground. "Perfect!" He exclaimed. "Just hold on, we'll get you downstairs!"

_Crack._

He towed her out of the attic, backing down slowly. All it would take is one misstep, or banging the helmet against something, and the Glass Lady would be shattered before she had a chance at any heat. He wondered if she would die if she was shattered, or if she could just be repaired by being returned to molten form. Did she feel pain? Would her pain be extended if she remained broken? What did she eat? Was she hungry? He had so many questions!

"That had better not be going in the living room, Dib!" Gaz shouted from the other side of her closed door. "This house is weird enough as it is."

Dib rolled his eyes. "Basement, Gaz, out of sight, don't worry about it."

"And don't touch the Frankenchokies!"

"Got it!" He brought the statue carefully to the main level, then maneuvered it to go down the last flight of steps.

At the back of the room stood an old boiler, painted cherry red and hospital white with rust streaks and peeling paint flakes all over. He pulled the Lady right next to it, then used a nearby stool to leap up and lower the power on the helmet until she touched the ground. He flipped it off completely and unclipped it, jumping back down to the floor.

"Alright, well, boiler's on full blast. Hope you're not dangerous, not sure how much heat you need or how long this is gonna take…" His eyes widened.

He'd peeped into the air vents of the boiler's combustion chamber once or twice and had seen the flames that kept the thing functional, but they always stayed inside the chamber. Now, they were leaping out of the vent, reaching and licking and roaring toward the Glass Lady. And it wasn't just flames. He could see heatwaves shimmering, not upward, but sideways toward her, as if she were drawing them toward herself.

Picking up a marker, he drew an outline of her base on the floor. Then he sat down, staring as the flames licked at the edge of her form.

_Crack._

He pulled the recorder from his trench coat pocket and hit the button. "Membrane log, I don't know how long it will take the Glass Lady to heat up enough to be normal speed, but it seems heat was what she needed. If it takes days I'm calling in sick, this is possibly the most exciting find since Zim came to Skool. I can't wait to see what the Eyeball thinks of this, more to come later."

Years of steady, patient stakeouts had prepared him well. He noted minute changes. When the _Crack_ next came at 28 minutes instead of half an hour, he recorded the data. When the next came at 25 minutes, he recorded that. When he checked her base, she'd crossed the outline by half an inch in the direction of the boiler.

Within an hour, the _Crack _was coming at 15 minutes, and she was touching the boiler, specifically the vent. He swore he could almost make out a hopeful expression on her face.

By the next hour, he could track her motion at the rate of a slug, and it appeared she was pouring herself into the boiler vent and into the combustion chamber. The cracking happened at the rate of one per minute, and her whole head was in the shaft.

By the end of the third hour, he watched as the last of her disappeared into the vent. The cracking had fallen silent, and the boiler glowed brightly. Dib scrubbed the sweat from his forehead. The temperature had definitely risen.

Cautiously, he approached the vent, peering in. The flames, usually low and manageable, had been whipped into a roaring frenzy around what was now a puddle of glass that had begun to glow a deep orange. He pulled his chair over and sat, staring into the vent.

"Just a blob now?" He asked, a little deflated. "Well. I don't know if you're okay or not… can you hear me?"

He waited, but received no answer. Sighing, he crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. "Maybe try and let me know when you're done? If you still can…"

A sluggish, slow voice rumbled from the combustion chamber. "Thaaaaaaaank youuuuuuuuuu Diiiiiiiiiib pleeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaseee waaaaaaaait."

Dib straightened, his face lighting up again. "Wait, okay! I can do that! Oh man oh man, you are real, I can't believe it. I'll be the most patient waiter ever, not as patient as you've been, how did you manage all that time? Wow, just wait, this is going to be the biggest thing ever!"


	4. The Lungless Wonder

Dib's nose wrinkled as he shifted in the chair, muttering sleepily. It was so warm, he must have fallen asleep. So warm, and she was taking so long to heat up—

His eyes shot open. The Glass Lady! He bolted to his feet and raced over to the vent.

He could barely peer in, it was so hot. All the readings groaned in the red zone, and in the combustion chamber lay a puddle of liquid glass.

"Lady?" He ventured, "Glass Lady, are you alright?"

The surface of the puddle rippled. He wondered if she was just sleeping, and he was waking her. But he'd been waiting so long!

"Glass Lady, are you in there?" He lifted his cellphone, snapping a few photos through the vent. "Are you alright?"

The puddle began to shift and bunch, pouring toward the vent opening. Dib yelped, leaping back as it began pouring out of the vent and onto the concrete. As more of it exited, the puddle on the floor began to rise, taking shape and form. Within seconds she stood before him, just as she had for years. A wide, roundish base with tendrils around the edges stretched upward, narrowing and tapering off to a thin neck atop which a blank face sat. As before, a swath of glass hung down off the back of her head, only now he pieced together that it looked like a ponytail of sorts. Oranges, reds, and yellows danced all over her surface, and he could vaguely see distorted images of things behind her through the colors. Two tendrils formed out of the sides of her body, reaching up toward the ceiling and bending to the side in what could have been a stretching motion. The face was completely blank, but as he watched the features began to take shape. Eyes and mouth, not like a person's, but like one would see carved on a statue's face. A little point poked out just below the eyes and above the mouth, which he took to be a nose.

The eyes, once formed, turned and fixed on him. The mouth stretched upward in a grin too wide for a human to make, and she darted forward, exclaiming, "Oh Dib thank you so much I can't believe you finally figured it out you'll have to tell me oh I'm so sorry—" She swerved aside, inches from him, and darted to the far corner of the room, her smile gone. "So very sorry must not touch you oh it almost happened must not happen again."

Dib blinked, jaw hanging open.

The Glass Lady stared at him, fiddling with her tendrils, alternately glancing down and over at him. Finally, she edged a couple inches away from the corner, and murmured, "Please forgive me but what is this expression you are making I have seen people open their mouths this wide to eat things but right now there is no food in front of you could you please tell me which emotion is connected to this facial expression so I know when it is appropriate to make this face?"

Dib's jaw clicked shut as he continued staring.

She fidgeted, looking down again. "Why are you making that face looking at me I know I came very close to you but I did not harm you I would never burn you please don't look at me like that I'm very sorry if I frightened you but say something Dib I've heard you speak for years and years and you told me everything and you put up pictures to keep me company when you were away and you played all around me why are you suddenly so quiet and staring like I'm…" her voice died away.

Shaking himself free of shock, he found his own voice. "No, no Glass Lady, I'm sorry, it's just… I mean… I never really thought… I might have started out thinking you were alive at first, but then I grew up and figured you weren't. I had no idea…" He eyed her warily, but his curiosity was already moving him closer. Besides, she didn't seem dangerous.

Okay, she seemed EXTREMELY dangerous, but in a totally non-threatening, unintentional way. She watched him come closer, and brightened some, the smile returning to her face.

"Then you aren't afraid of me?" She hoped aloud.

"I don't think so," he said, stopping four feet from her. "But I have so many questions… to start with, what's your real name?"

Her smile grew. "I like your name for me Glass Lady is very pretty but my name is Remara and you are Dib Membrane and you like finding proof for things nobody believes in did you get Bigfoot to stop long enough to take a photo yet?"

He felt his shoulders relax. "Not yet, but next time I'll bring some jerky, he seemed to like that, and maybe he'll hold still longer."

"I know you'll get a photo of him someday you're very patient you know you haven't given up yet I don't think you ever will I love hearing your stories I think you kept me smiling inside even though I couldn't smile outside I was too cold but every time you told me stories I felt warmer inside and your drawings too can I keep your drawings Dib I know I can't touch them but I want to keep them can I?"

Dib put up his hands. "Whoah whoah… Remara, you said? You have to slow down a little bit, I can only answer you if you stop to take a… breath…" He peered at her body. "Do you even have lungs?"

"What are lungs?" She puzzled, answering his question.

"Vibration of glass particles maybe," he mused, inspecting her, "You could probably make sound from any part of your body that way." It made sense, her voice held an undertone of ringing, like tiny chimes clashing together to form every syllable. And with no lungs, she had no need to pause for breath.

"Lungs are vibration of glass particles maybe?" She was even more confused.

"No no no, I was just guessing how you're talking. Lungs are part of the human body, I breathe with them—something I don't think you need to do—and they help me talk." He noted that even though she had no lungs or respiratory system he could see, she continued to move her mouth when she spoke. Maybe he could ask her more questions about how she worked, what she was, where she'd come from…

"Ohhhhh," she nodded, "So can I keep your drawings?"

Despite himself, Dib found he was smiling. It was hard to believe someone actually cared about his childhood scribbles. "Well first we have to find a place for you to stay. You can't stay up in the attic, that's for sure. I'm guessing you're… well let me check." He walked over to his father's desk, imitating his voice mockingly, "Let's do this scientifically." He pulled out a heat gage and returned, handing it to Remara. "Would you hold this please?"

Gingerly she took it, wrapping her tendrils around it. The meter instantly shot into the four digits, giving an annoying _blat_ sound as it fluctuated around 1600 degrees Farenheit.

"Yeah you're going to catch things on fire if you go back upstairs." He chewed his lip. "You're probably not right now just cause you're in a concrete room. But maybe here's the best place for now, seems like you need to keep warm and the boiler's the best place for that." He stared at the boiler, struck by a thought. "How could you possibly have gotten that hot, our boiler couldn't have heated you to 1600!"

She blinked. "It wasn't a very hot flame but I made it more and kept pulling it in and putting it out and pulling it in and putting it out over and over to make it very hot inside me until I could move again and then I just kept it inside me and kept taking heat but it is leaving me all the time I can't hold onto it if I'm not in warm places." She sighed. "I used to have a gift a friend gave to me it was a stone that held as much heat as I put in it like storage and I could go for very long times without needing to be in a hot place because it was inside me but I lost it when I was running."

"You looked like you were running when I first saw you." He seized on that. "What were you running from?"

Her features blurred, almost as if she were pulling them back under a smooth, blank surface. "I do not want to talk about that Dib can we please not talk about that time?"

Slightly alarmed, he soothed, "It's okay, it's okay, we don't have to talk about that right now. We can talk about other things, yeah? Like… like you've been frozen for a really long time, are you hungry?"

"Hungry this is that thing people say they feel right before they eat am I correct but I do not need any sand right now I have not moved around very much."

Stunned by the implications of her words, he glanced at the floor. A light shimmer traced her path on the concrete floor, the thinnest sheen of glass wherever she had moved. "Of course!" He exclaimed. "Sand? You need to replenish yourself whenever you move, just like we do, but your energy output is literally visible and has to be replaced oh man oh man this is so cool!"

"Actually I am very hot not cool and that's what I just said so I do not need sand right now but perhaps later I might but for right now I would really like to see your—"

"Drawings, I got it. I'll grab them from upstairs. Stay here, ok? I'll be right back." As he started up the stairs, his watch beeped. He gasped. "Remara, actually, I gotta go to school. Stay here, and if you hear footsteps and I don't call your name, you hide in the boiler and don't say anything, got it?"

"Okay Dib have a good day at school and please tell me all about the plague when you get back it's very sad but it's good to hear you talking."

He blinked, grinning as he flew up the stairs. They were in the middle of learning about the Black Plague for the sixth time that year, he still couldn't believe she had heard every word he'd ever said to her.

Class would be slow today, he could just tell.

…

**Note:** Lades and gents, this is what has been affectionately dubbed "Remaraspeak." Get used to it, she doesn't pause for much. By the way… how many of you figured out that Remara is my default icon (and if this changes in the future, I'll make sure she's the cover of this story when I change it)?


	5. The Stairway Spy

Dib could hardly believe how slowly the day dragged at Skool. It was usually hard to pretend to pay attention to Ms. Bitters and her horrific lessons, but today it was nearly impossible. At one point during the class, Zim flew into a rage over the fact that Napoleon failed to conquer Russia, but Dib barely noticed. His eyes were trained on the clock.

When the day finally ended, he grabbed his binder and tore for the door. He was so focused on his escape, he didn't notice the standard issue Invader boot stuck squarely across his path. He faceplanted, tasting linoleum as his glasses cracked. He sat up, glaring.

"What's the matter Dib?" Zim sneered. "Is your head too large to keep off the ground? I'm not surprised the gravitational pull of the planet finally exerted its full effect on that gargantuan skull."

"My head's not big!" Dib snapped, gathering up his scattered books and standing. "And I'm busy, I don't have time for you being the biggest little jerk in the universe."

"LITTLE?" Zim screeched. "Zim is not LITTLE!"

"Little and loud!" Dib called over his shoulder. "Try gargling water, it'll do wonders for your volume problem!"

"Just you wait Dib! Wait 'til you see my latest plan to take over your planet, you'll be groveling at my…"

Dib kept going, not looking back. Yesterday he might have stayed for Zim's rant, and thrown a punch or two. But today was different. The upcoming days would probably be different too. He'd have to make _some_ time to keep Zim in check, but his plans had been _really _lame lately, so maybe Dib didn't have to worry so much.

His feet barely touched the pavement on the way back and he practically crashed through the front door. He aimed for the basement, but swerved at the last moment. He took a few moments to collect his drawings from the attic walls, then he returned to the basement.

"Glass La—Remara?"

A glass blob poked out from the boiler, forming into a smiling face. "Dib you came back it is good to see you again oh you brought the drawings thank you so much will you put them up on the wall again I would do it but then they wouldn't be there anymore."

He couldn't stop a smile. Something about the way she talked, so energetic and everflowing, it was infectious. He grabbed some tape off his Dad's desk and began plastering up the drawings. He paused as he held one up.

"Hey, I didn't draw this one." He squinted at it. "There's a unicorn in it, I don't draw unicorns, that's dumb."

"Oh that must be the one your sister drew sometimes she came up too but always when you weren't there I think she wanted to be alone and not alone too do you think she'll be happy I'd like to meet her also."

Dib stared at her. "My sister was up there? Gaz? She talked to you?"

Remara poured out of the boiler and nodded. "She had a lot of thoughts just like you and most of them very unhappy."

"What did she talk to you about?"

Remara shook her head. "I am sorry Dib but I think it would not be kind if I shared what she obviously wanted to keep to herself especially if she did not know I was really listening if you want to know perhaps you should ask her."

"Ask my sister? Hah. The day she wants to talk to me will be the day Zim actually does something intelligent." Dib scowled, pasting the drawing up. He glanced back, catching a somber expression on Remara's face. He forced a grin. "But enough about that, I wanna know everything about you! How did you… no, you don't want to talk about how you got like that. Well, what are you? Can we start there?"

Remara nodded, coiling up on the floor and leaning against the boiler. "The closest words used to describe what I am in your language are Glass Flow I understand most humans have never seen a Glass Flow and that most glass humans come across is not alive at all much like your hair and the ends of your fingers are not alive and can be removed without any pain such is the glass of your world but where I come from there are many of us all alive and swirling and flowing around the Core."

"The Core?" Dib echoed. "What's that?"

"The Core is a lovely wonderfully hot place and I had to travel up for a very very long time to reach where we are now."

"Up?" Dib looked down. "The Core! You come from the center of the Earth? There's MORE of you down there?"

"Yes many of us and we are always circling and touching each other and the Core sustains our energy without need to stop and absorb other heat and there is never any worry about freezing and we are always touching." Her voice held a mournful chime.

"So if you're all molten glass, why do you need a face? Why the hair?" He gestured at her ponytail. "You obviously don't actually have hair, why form it?"

Her eyes dropped down, and he wondered even at that. Could she see through the eyes, or was she mimicking the expression needed for that moment?

"It seems that the more human I appear the less frightening I am to humans and as I am stuck on the surface it is to my benefit to appear as human as possible to keep them from being afraid but I have not succeeded very well because they keep running away and I can't study how they look very well I have only made very few friends on the surface and none of them were really human but from them I have learned speech and the correct expression for the correct emotion and how to look a little bit human."

"So that's why you move your mouth when you talk," Dib mused. "To set people at ease… if they don't run." He sighed. "Sorry to break it to you Remara, but most people are either terrified of something as different as you, or they completely ignore it. Or they…" he trailed off, abruptly cutting off thoughts of laboratories and what would happen if one got ahold of Remara. It crossed his mind that the best thing for her would be to return home.

The corners of his mouth turned down. He didn't really want her to leave. Maybe he could figure something out. "Tell you what, how about you study me? I'll talk to you and ask you questions, and you can ask me questions and study how I look. Just, uh, don't copy me okay? If we ever manage to go out it would be hard to explain."

She shook her head. "I will not copy you I only need to study things like what an arm looks like and how fingers move and how to make legs things like that and maybe work on my face a little more also you never explained this expression and what emotion it matches." She hung her mouth open in a perfect mimicry of Dib's shocked expression on first seeing her move.

Dib laughed. "That's shock, Remara. I couldn't really believe what I was seeing, and I wasn't focusing on holding my mouth shut."

Remara's mouth shut and she nodded. "Thank you Dib this is information that is helpful to me oh hello Gaz."

Dib whipped around, spotting his sister on the stairwell.

Gaz stood there, a stunned expression on her face as she stared past him. How long had she been standing there? Slowly, her features hardened, her eyes squinting shut again.

"Stupid Dib. What were you thinking?" Her fists clenched, her voice unsteady. "The world breaks things like her. Breaks them and laughs." Turning, she fled back up the stairs.


	6. The Oblivious Professor

"Gaz!" Dib sprinted up the steps after her. "What are you going to do? You can't tell Dad, not until I've figured something out, ok?"

She spun on her heel at the top of the steps, glaring down at him. "What, you don't want your precious proof for Dad? He might actually believe you for once."

His eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means now you finally have proof you're not nuts, psycho, completely insane, so go on and haul her in! Watch them freeze her and break her just for science sake! They'll probably give you a medal for it, go on!"

Stung, Dib took a step down. "I wouldn't do that, Gaz! What's your problem?"

"Nothing that a few months without seeing your face won't fix." She turned, stomping up toward her room.

He stomped back down into the basement, a throbbing starting just behind his eyes. "I don't know what her problem is," he growled, "She should know better. I would never—" He glanced up, and just about swallowed his tongue.

Remara was looking at him with a blank face, no eyes no nose and no mouth. A voice came from her, the same voice, but with a more hesitant note. "Dib I know that you often speak of needing proof and wanting to not be seen as crazy and I know it means so very very much to you but please I do not want to be broken by your father if that is what he would do and if what you say about him and what Gaz says about him is true he is very much interested in finding out how things work and would not worry so much about whether or not it would hurt and I can assure you," a ripple passed through the glass, "It would hurt very much."

Dib looked down, sighing heavily and releasing his tension. "Remara, I wouldn't do that. And you're right, he would, so steer clear of him. He wouldn't be trying to be cruel, he just…" He shrugged. "Yeah, steer clear. It's best that way. I wouldn't do that." He dismissed his earlier idea of contacting the Eyeball. They wouldn't be any better. No, he had to handle Remara himself.

But what exactly did that entail? He lifted his head, grateful she had reformed her face with somewhat of a smile.

"Well, what are you going to do, Remara? You're here on the surface, is there a way to get you home?" He hedged, hoping selfishly that the answer was no.

Her face fell. "No." She said quietly.

He blinked. "Care to expand?"

"No." She repeated firmly.

Perhaps she'd open up later. He filed it away, and tried another angle. "Alright, so what are you going to do up here on the surface?"

She twisted her tendrils together, studying the concrete. It struck Dib that without a way back, she knew she was trapped up here, but had no idea how to move forward.

How did a Glass Flow integrate into American society anyway?

"Well," he said slowly, "If you've got nowhere else to go, and you're going to be around, maybe I can help you learn to fit in."

"Fit in?" She tested the words as though she knew what each meant, but not the meaning of the two together.

"Yeah, blend in and learn to live on the surface. Like one of us."

"Like a human?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. "Is it possible?"

"Well, I have no idea," he confessed, "But it's worth a try, I mean, what else would you do?"

She dipped her head. "Well if you think that this is worth a try I am willing to try what is the first step do you think?"

"The first step is finding a way to get you out of this room without burning the house down. Gimme a minute." He bounded upstairs, taking the steps two at a time until he reached the top. Skidding into the kitchen, he pounced on the hoverscreen, activating it to call the Professor.

"What is it, Son, I'm very busy with my new All-Terrain-Tire invention that REALLY tackles ANY terrain, not like those fake ads you see all the time. Those tires would pop within a few hours on the surface of the sun. And they call themselves All-Terrain." He scoffed.

"That's great Dad, actually it relates to a project I'm working on. Our class is taking a field trip to a volcano tomorrow."

"Our tax dollars at work!" Membrane crowed. "That's quite a field trip upgrade from when I was at that Skool."

"Yeah, but the Skool can't afford the fireproof clothing. So I need something REALLY fireproof, like, something that could withstand volcanic heat. Pants, shoes, shirt? Oh and gloves!"

"Hm, well I suppose we could throw a set of clothes together, maybe two sets in case you spill ketchup on one. It's fire resistant, not stain resistant." The Professor laughed heartily at his own joke.

Dib grinned a little. This was the most he'd gotten to talk to his Dad in awhile. "Sounds great Dad. Oh!" He recalled the stone Remara had mentioned. "Do you have anything that could store a lot of heat? Like, absorb it and discharge it when needed? I want to make an awesome experiment for the science fair based on the volcano."

"Now son, that project is untested technology and won't be ready for at least six months. You'll have to figure out something else. But let me know if there's something else I can help with, at least if it relates to SCIENCE!" He emphasized. "I'll send the clothes over with Simmons in an hour."

"Thanks Dad. I'll give you a full report." Dib lied, knowing his Dad would have forgotten by the next day.

"Sounds good son, do well in Skool and one day you'll be the one running Membrane Inc. Farewell!" The screen blinked off.

He chewed his lip. So, Earth's best scientist didn't have the technology to give Remara a heat-storage device. The only other option was… definitely not an option. Not that he would help anyway. Maybe she wouldn't need it, though. Maybe she'd have enough heat to get through the day.

He ran back to the stairs and skidded to a halt to see Remara near the top, just watching him.

"Don't worry I understand I need to stay on stone right now," she gestured at the concrete stairs. "I am not entering this room I just wanted to be nearby it is always very lonely when you go."

Lonely. Dib pulled a chair over, sitting in it. "You were frozen for a really long time I guess. How did you stand it?"

"I told you I looked at your drawings and I replayed in my mind the stories of your day and also of Gaz's day and waited for the next time you would be back."

"I'd have gone insane. Really insane, not just what they call me."

"It isn't pleasant," she admitted, "But it is over now and I am glad."

"Yeah, me too. But we're going to have to do a lot of work. The first thing we're going to have to do is get you looking like someone my age." He gestured behind her. "Back down there please, and I'll come with you."

He followed her as she flowed back down the steps, the fresh glass trail on the step radiating warmth through his shoes. "You said you need to study a human to look more like them, right? So start." He shed his trench coat and stood in place, legs spread and arms out at his sides. "You're going to have to look like us and move like us. Start by making your body look like a human's, then we'll work on walking."

She swooped in closer, inspecting him as she flowed back and forth and all around, peering and scrutinizing, but never coming too close.

Part of him wondered what he was doing, wondered if Gaz was right and this would all end terribly, but he silenced that thought. He finally had a friend, someone who actually listened to him, and not only that, needed his help. Gaz could shove it, he would make this work if it killed him.


	7. The Clothing Conundrum

It took Remara the better part of two hours to form rudimentary arms and legs. From what Dib could observe, her mimicry was based on intense concentration and sheer force of will keeping her particles in certain collected shapes and forms. He asked if it had been like this when she first started, as she seemed to hold the semi-human form fairly easily, and she'd admitted it was very difficult at first, but that the longer she held and practiced a form the easier it was to keep.

"How long is 'longer'?" He checked.

"It was many weeks before I didn't have to think hard at all about the form you first saw me in."

He grimaced, biting his lip. He wasn't sure they had weeks to work with.

"Dib why are you eating your face?"

He released his lip, snickering. "It's just a facial expression for worry or thinking hard," he assured her, "I'm not really eating my face. But back to the topic, do you also think it was harder because you didn't have any model to study?"

She inclined her head. "That may also be the case possibly."

"So you might learn faster with a model, even with many models." The doorbell upstairs dinged. "Hold that." He darted upstairs, accepting the packages from Simmons, and dashed back down. "I'm lucky stupid Zim's got me on my toes all the time or my legs would be killing me from all this stair climbing."

Remara's face wrinkled. "Your legs would commit murder against you that makes no sense Dib because they are a part of you and cannot revolt unless there is something you need to explain to me about how the human body works."

"Expression, Remara. It just means they would hurt a lot right now if I wasn't used to running all the time." He unwrapped the package. "Okay look, I got you some clothes. It'll help you blend in—I mean, it'll make you look more human." He had to get used to picking his expressions more carefully. With Zim he didn't care, of course, but Remara didn't need the added confusion.

She made a very human-sounding sigh and pointed at them. "But Dib you know that if I touch most things including cloth it goes up in flames."

He paused, peering a little at her. "Well, yeah that's probably what will happen but the way you talk about it is like you've seen that happen before."

"I was around the surface before you for long enough to see what happens when I touch things that were never intended for the level of heat I need to flow." There was a deep sorrow in her tone that took Dib off guard, but before he could comment, she cut him off. "And I still do not wish to discuss those days I see the question all over your face."

"Fast learner," he mused, "But I got fireproof clothing. My Dad made the material himself, it can withstand volcanic temperatures, so it should be good for you. And look!" He lifted up the shoes and gloves. "With these you can leave the basement as soon as you learn to walk like a human."

Her features split into a wide, beaming smile so joyful, Dib couldn't help reflecting it back.

"Oh Dib thank you that is so thoughtful you are going to bring me up into the world and I can learn new things and meet people maybe I know I must be careful but this is more than I thought could happen I will learn and study as hard as I can so I will be ready when we go up oh thank you thank you is this how you put them on?" She took the shirt, placing it on top of her head so that it draped like a veil.

"Ah, no Remara. Like this, watch." He pulled off his shirt, holding it up for her inspection, then slowly pulled it on over his head.

"Could you please repeat that motion?" She requested. He did, twice more, and she managed to pull on the shirt.

She bulged out of it in several places, oozing uncomfortably, and he realized the shirt was made for someone his size and not an adult.

"Oh, Remara… is there any way you can shrink down?"

She looked at herself. "I am too big?"

"If you're going to come with me to Skool you're going to have to look like a kid my age, and you're too big."

She folded part of her face until it looked like she was biting her lip, and Dib fought very hard to keep a straight face. "I could separate part of myself and it would hurt some but it does not hurt as much when I am this hot and then it will be like when I have seen humans cutting off their hair and the hair is no longer ever a part of them again and then I will be smaller."

"You have to get rid of part of yourself? Are you sure you'll be alright?"

She nodded. "I will be well it will hurt some though and I will release a good deal of heat so please stand far back."

He backed off to the far corner of the basement, and she moved to the opposite side. Her face went blank as she concentrated. As he watched, a large lump of molten glass bunched together, traveled to her base, and separated. Her body rippled, and there was a small cracking noise, not so much like broken glass, but like a crack running through a stone.

After a moment, she raised her head, a small smile on her face. "I am small enough now?" She was half the size she had been before, still a large-looking child but small enough to pass for his classmate. In the corner, a large glass blob lay cooling slowly. "I do not wish to get very much smaller because now it is already much harder to keep in the heat that I have and I do not think I can go very far from the boiler now that I think of it do you have any way I can carry heat with me Dib?"

Dib clapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from swearing. Of course, she'd decreased her body size and now she had less heat retention. Still, she couldn't have come adult-sized…

"I'll have to figure that one out, Remara. For now, pull on the rest of your clothes. The pants… um…" His face flushed red. "Um, well you see how I'm standing in them right? Just flow into the shape of the pants."

"You're turning funny colors Dib what does it mean when you turn funny colors?"

"Nevermind! Just put on the pants."


	8. The Girl in the Dark

**Note:** So I would like to apologize to everyone reading this fic for the super slow updating process, because I've been eaten alive by the new Ghost – Mystery Skulls fandom. I'm not abandoning this fic, but updates are slower because… brainmeats… devoured… must follow the muse… also I'm super busy around the holidays. -_- But mostly Ghost.

….

Dib worked with Remara late into the night. He paced back and forth across the room for hours, showing her the mechanics of walking as she laboriously mimicked his every move. She fell quite a bit, but never seemed hurt. Partway through the evening she retired to the combustion chamber to recharge her heat, and Dib realized that taking her any major distance from a heatsource was out of the question.

The Eyeball wouldn't have anything that his Dad didn't, and his Dad hadn't developed what he was looking for yet. He only had one other option, and it made his skin crawl. But he couldn't pass this opportunity up!

Eventually, when Remara began mirroring his yawns, he laughed. "Sorry Remara. I'm just tired. I don't think I can take you out tomorrow, but soon. Get some rest if you need it, I gotta sleep and go to Skool. See you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay Dib I will be here have a good day and tell me all about the London Bridge collapsing when you return from Ms. Bitters."

"You bet." He left, closing the basement door behind him. He would need all his rest for tomorrow, and he had to figure out how much he was willing to negotiate for the item he needed.

….

Remara continued practicing after Dib left. It was difficult to hold herself to the form of a human, but less difficult thanks to Dib allowing her to study him for hours.

But Gaz…

She stared up at the basement door. It wasn't right. That wasn't Gaz.

Concentrating, she carefully stepped up onto the bottom stair. Dib had spent a good half hour taking off his shoes and putting them back on so she could do the same. They made a funny rubbery sound wherever she placed her… feet… but hopefully would allow her to go up into the house as long as she was very careful.

She inched up the stairs, taking each step with care. On reaching the door, she put out a gloved hand to touch the knob. Keeping the fingers of the gloves filled, she curled them around the handle and pulled down like she'd observed Dib doing, and pushed it open.

She remembered the path Dib had taken when he moved her, and she carefully retraced it, climbing the second set of stairs just as slowly. Gaz had yelled from the door on the right… but that was coming from the opposite direction. Slowly she turned to the left, putting her hand on the doorknob and making the same motion to open it.

"Go away."

She hesitated, then swung the door open and stepped into the darkened room. "I will go away eventually but I wanted to speak with you Gaz because you also came to speak with me a lot when I was upstairs and I have not yet had a chance to speak back with you."

The door closed behind her. Remara cast a soft orange light that barely reached her surroundings. The only other light came from a small screen, reflecting off an angry looking face. The screen made strange noises as Gaz fiddled with it. "What makes you think I want to talk to you now?"

"It was never a problem before and I wanted to ask you something now that I am able to."

"Fine, ask your stupid question and get out."

"Why don't you tell Dib about them?"

The screen fell silent as Gaz turned her face toward her. "Because. He wouldn't. Care. And even if he did. There's nothing he can do."

"You say that but you've never tried asking him have you so you don't really know maybe there is something he can do."

"The only thing he cares about his stupid obsessions with stupid paranormal things like ghosts and aliens and walking hunks of glass, he doesn't see anything or anyone else." She turned her face back to the screen. "If you were normal he'd look right through you too."

Remara studied her half-lit face. "Dib is going to take me to Skool soon and you two go to the same Skool if what you have said to me in the past is correct and I want to know what is a class that you are in so I may also take one class with you?"

"Do you even know what a class is?" Gaz grunted.

"It is a short period of time set aside for learning a specific facet of human existence from what I understand after hearing the two of you."

"What if I don't tell you what classes I have?"

"Then I will ask Dib and I will tell him that I want to take a class with you because I am worried about you and not because I am interested in that class and he will wonder why I am worried about you and he will ask lots of questions that you seem to not want answered for reasons I cannot understand."

Gaz shot her a glare from half-lidded eyes. "You know that kind of worry is what's going to get you killed. This world doesn't do well with things like you. You should have stayed in the attic."

Remara tilted her head to the side, still staring at Gaz.

"You can take art with me." Gaz stared down at the screen. "Third period, right before lunch. Now get out of here." She glanced up once more for half a second before averting her eyes. "And do something about that hair. Hanging down like that you'll catch things on fire at Skool."


	9. The Deal That Was Struck

The next day, Dib approached Skool like he was coming to a battleground. It was a battleground every day, but today he was re-engaging the enemy, and they would have to come to some terms. He hardly noticed Gaz peeling off to her classes as he entered his homeroom.

As he passed Zim's desk, he glanced at the alien. Zim's wig was slightly askew, and his eyelids sagged around the lenses. His temple throbbed slightly, and he seemed deathly intent on some schematic diagrammed on Skool notebook paper and laid out all over his desk. The schematic was labeled in all kinds of foreign lettering, and it would be so easy to snatch it and parade it in front of the class.

"One, they won't care," Dib muttered to himself, "And two, I need him ready to listen to me. Hey Spaceboy," He hissed, "Class is starting, roll up your stupid alien blueprint."

Zim jerked upright, scrambling to jam papers into his notebook and out of sight. He shot a somewhat confused glare at Dib, before turning his attention to Ms. Bitters, who had taken front and center.

"Now class," Ms. Bitters intoned, "We've been learning about the Black Plague, but clearly you aren't miserable enough to face the harsh realities of life. So turn to page 42, we're going to learn about the meaning of life as told by Neitzche."

Dib rolled his eyes, turning to the page and promptly tuning her out. He pulled up a piece of paper and began writing up a list. Ms. Bitters never checked to see if they were taking actual notes, and he needed to figure out what he was willing to barter.

An eternity later, the recess/lunch bell rang, and Dib collected his books and went to his locker, grabbing his lunch.

"Hey dorkhead," He heard from behind. "What's lunch today?"

Wordlessly, Dib handed it over his shoulder. The bag was snatched from his hand, and he could hear the contents dumped all over the ground. "Too good to eat from the cafeteria huh? Enjoy a nice mush sandwich?" _Squish_ went the contents of his bag, stomped into the ground by a set of cleats. He closed his locker, turning around to face the blow that sent him reeling into the lockers. At this point, it barely phased him, but he had to put on a show. "See you later, freak."

He rubbed his jaw. Okay, maybe it still hurt a little. He closed his locker, scraped the remains of the lunch off the ground, and disposed of it in the trash. He pulled a second bag from the inside pocket of his trench coat and walked to the lunchroom.

Zim was off at his own table, as usual, the papers all spread out again. He was making frantic markings all over the papers, muttering to himself. Dib paused, wondering if today was the best day. Zim seemed less stable than usual. He shook his head, pressing forward. He needed otherworld tech.

Zim banged his fist on the table, letting loose a foreign expletive and smashing his face into the papers. Dib blinked, then slowly slid into the seat across from Zim. "Rough day?" He remarked, poking a straw into his juice box and sipping.

Zim lifted his face, leveling a deathly glower at the boy. "I am not interested in your mockery today Dib." His voice was low and grating, and again Dib paused. This wasn't one of Zim's overblown threats. The alien was giving off serious danger signals, and Dib felt himself tense up.

He set his juice box down. "I'm not mocking you. I'm here to see if you're up for a trade."

"You?" Zim managed a snicker. "Have something the mighty Zim wants? Don't make me laugh fool."

"Actually I have a few things you want." Dib pulled out a piece of paper, flicking it open in front of Zim's face. "You can choose one thing for every thing I need from you."

Zim glanced briefly at the list, before grabbing it and peering more closely at it. The corner of his mouth lifted in a grudging grin. "So it seems you do." He folded his claws around the list, staring at Dib. "What exactly is it that you desire of Zim?"

"I need something small that can store great quantities of heat, and dispense it when needed, and AS needed, not all in one blast."

Zim frowned, tilting his head. "Why would you need such a thing?"

"Answers aren't on the list Spaceboy. It's just something I need, has nothing to do with you so you don't have to worry about it coming back to bite you."

"The device wouldn't bite, it would only hold heat so it would burn." Zim glared in exasperation, "Stop saying stupid things. I have no such thing, but it would be simple to make. I could have such a device by tomorrow."

"I need it charged full of heat already then."

"That will cost you—" Zim circled an item on the list, "Two full weeks of 'not bothering Zim under any circumstances even if all humanity were to be enslaved.' "

"I only said a week and a half!" Dib protested.

"Two weeks for charging it full of heat too." Zim annotated the line. "What else?"

Dib bit his lip. Two weeks was an awfully long time to leave the alien to his own devices, but it couldn't be _too _bad. "Do you have anything like a skin-tight force field device? And it's not for me."

Zim set the paper down, eyes narrowing. "Dib, the first device doesn't sound like anything you could use against me without serious repercussions, but the second is something I would never hand over to my worst enemy. It's bad enough I'm willing to sell you Irken tech for a little peace of mind, but arming you against me is crossing the line."

"It isn't for me!" Dib insisted.

"Then who is it for?" Zim demanded.

"That's none of your business."

"It is if you want the device." Zim wrote on the paper. "That's my price for it, you tell me who this is going to."

Dib gritted his teeth. Would it really hurt? Zim would meet her tomorrow anyway if all went according to plan. And he didn't have to say much about her, and that way he didn't have to give up anything else on the list.

"Fine." He glared. "Just her name and species, understand?"

"Species?" Zim's eyes widened. "Done."

"Her name is Remara. She'll be coming tomorrow anyway, she's a Glass Flow, made of molten glass, but she's alive. That's all. Now will you give me the tech?"

Comprehension lit Zim's face. "The heat storage…" He looked down at the paper. "And the skin-tight force field. To contain her heat and allow her passage…" He grinned crookedly. "Why Dib, allowing a paranormal being to pass as human, uncharacteristically generous of you."

"She's not like you." He spat. "She's kind. She wouldn't hurt anyone if she could help it."

Zim rolled his eyes, tucking the paper into his PAK. "I expect you to follow the terms of agreement. I will have the items for you tomorrow. Now get out of my sight, I have important work to do." He crumpled up his designs, hurling them at the trash, and began sketching out a new diagram.

...

**Note:** I'm sorry if you got this in your email a few times, FFnet wasn't sending me an alert so I kept taking it down and trying to put it up, then I gave up and said "I'll do it tomorrow," only to find an alert in my inbox the next day that went nowhere cause I'd taken the chapter down. -_- so here is the chapter...


End file.
